With the release of my first self-published short travel memoir/cookbook this week, I can’t help but find myself reflecting on my time spent in Beijing. I’m so grateful for the blog I wrote during my time there because the memories have started to fade. I think that’s why I like cooking so much. Somehow a scent or flavor takes me back and the color returns to those memories. This book project started with me chasing those memories through food.

There are dishes I still make because they take me somewhere. Ge Da Teng brings back the little restaurant near my school—the garlic, cumin, charcoal, free-roaming chickens, and the donkey that may or may not have been on a leash. I made that soup over and over after coming home because somehow it still tasted like stumbling onto something good.

Then there’s Di San Xian, the dish I ordered so often that being able to ask for it in Mandarin felt like its own little victory. Or hot pot, which somehow worked equally well for celebrations, homesickness, and random Tuesdays.

At first, I thought I was just trying to recreate a few meals I missed. Then I started digging through old blog posts and journals and realized I was finding whole pieces of Beijing again. The recipes opened the door, but the stories kept coming with them.

That’s really how The Orange Backpack – Beijing came together.

It became less about recreating food perfectly and more about preserving a year that changed me before the details disappeared completely. A meal could bring back the restaurant. The restaurant could bring back the neighborhood. The neighborhood could bring back the version of me who was still figuring out how to live there.

If you’d like to spend a little time with me in Beijing, check out The Orange Backpack – Beijing on Amazon.